I had a doubt
said it aloud
to hear how the words
sounded in my ears.

Just as crappy
as I thought them
the jeering call
You’re such a fraud.

So I visited my
résumé
in the tiny section
allotted for the credited
writing I’ve done.

This to remind myself
I’m not the only one
who thinks my words
are good for someone
other than just me.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

Lines versified
cut to take shape of
lips of a last kiss good-bye.
Words record the song
played as I drove away
to my separate destiny.
Rhythms played the hurt
of my heartache
as I fought to continue on
not undo my journey.

Old poems
hold the bitter sweet marrow
until I return to them
remembering experiences wholly
and can smile anyway.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #30, free day (and farewell). Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Since we could choose anything to write about, I thought I’d extol the virtues of old poems.

Many years ago, I learned of a man
under mental care.
Among other things,
he believed people should be able
to talk through the air
like Star Trek characters
through their nifty com links.

I wonder now, if he’s still on this earth,
what he must think
of his indictment for thinking
of what is now considered
fairly old news since
we’ve talked using
blue tooth ear pieces for years.
We write with our fingers
on many smart phones,
and most recently on iPads
that remind me a great deal of
Yeoman Janice’s device
to deliver her reports to Captain Kirk
if memory serves me correctly.

And I do wonder, too,
when I look at the companies
and finances in play and
the frenzied welcome
of anything thought innovation,
what would this man be
working on by now
having had our earlier ideas
decades before
even cell phones were accepted.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #29, front page news Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Turn left at the first phrase
that taps my curiosity.
On the side are the ropes to grab
so I can scale up it
stepping sliding over
the bumps bumping up it.

On top I can see the sea
of all the extending tangents
and extraneous asides
that might be of interest.

What must be written then
are the lines that glow
with the knowing
shimmer of connectedness.
And so, when I see them
at their brightest I simply
reel them in with my trusty ink pen
to splay them open on paper.

And on occasion I allow me
the delightfully twisting query:
Do they glow because they know
to shimmer
or on some level from my high perch
do I in some way ignite them?

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #28, intuition Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Sometimes it’s fun to have it.
Hammering out the messages
all come to have their say. Heavy too.
Regarding me as only a conduit, sleep’s irrelevant.
Inspiration is my relentless driver.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #27, let someone else take the lead Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

For this acrostic, I used S-H-A-R-I, my first name. I tried several other words, including purple cows—don’t ask—but I returned to this one and I’ve chosen to live with it.

Relationships and occupations
death in the family
and other amputations
weddings and grocery shopping.
Life offers up bumps and twists
at every stage we travel through.
Racism, sexism,
just I-don’t-want-to-know-you.
Chest pain, stomach ache, swine flu,
and better and worse are the
land mines we negotiate trying
to keep our souls in tact.

Endings, standings,
delivering come-uppings,
births and christenings.
Finding acceptance.
Hugging a bigot or keeping your distance.
Successful surgeries, bed rest
meditation and medications
that pull us from the edge
bringing us back for more of this.

It’s all part of the journey.
To each of us our portions of
crazy and volatile with
a measure of calm mixed in.
Plain sailing then is
a matter of perception
and depends on
what gumption we bring
to each situation.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #24, find a phrase Visit the post to see the details of this prompt. “Plain sailing” caught and kept my attention.

The coral honeysuckle
cut down late this year
sprouts new tendrils
showing fierce resistance
to death.
Bare brown twigs
will grow to green. Soon
rust red flowers,
just a touch of saffron on edges,
bloom to beckon the hummingbirds
who will come darting in
at dizzying speeds
to drink the sweet nectar,
giving delight just to watch them
about their important mission
in ecology.

One of the lovelier events
nature does offer.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #22, a wordle Visit the post to see the details of this prompt. The words I used are: saffron, rust, tendril, fierce, dizzy.

I was hoping someone would step up and say it isn’t so. But it didn’t happen. Read Write Poem soon will be nothing more than a fine repository of fine writing and writer links. You see it’s closing after April 30, 2010.

The forum was started on Read Write Poem’s site to discuss the closing, the sentiment, the next steps.

What comes after Read Write Poem closes was anyone’s guess. In this information post at his blog, Bearly Audible, Neil Reid has links that really need to be explored.

And he’s gone much further! Neil has done this awesome thing of opening a new community site, We Write Poems, as an option for Read Write Poem members to join. If you’re familiar with the writers at Read Write Poem, or become familiar by reading the postings there, you’ll be happy to know that several of the talents from RWP are participating in Neil’s new site. That is pretty cool!

So are many others stepping up with ways to continue doing what brings them joy. Among them, Rob Kistner returning to his Writer’s Island for regular weekly prompts. And, he presents links to other prompt sites for our participation.

No Longer Active, Still Vital

This is all quite new to me. Once I decided to post more of my writing and engage poetry more fully, it quickly became clear that it wasn’t something I wanted to do alone. I may have mentioned how thrilled I was to have finally gotten up the nerve to tap into some great poetry communities.

When I went for it, Read Write Poem was one of the first ones I found that I braved. I will always be glad I started there. Having the opportunity to continue with this community of poem writers is just a big ol’ gift I eagerly accept.

I’m keeping the Read Write Poem badge in my sidebar as long as it remains online for exploration. And I’ll add other badges for sites I participate in, first up We Write Poems, coming soon.

Everything related to RWP’s NaPoWriMo event is in place. You can visit this link to read about the plans for the online anthology of some poems from this month’s submissions.

Perfection is nature
bereft of nothing.

Animals plants insects
break die live kill grow
sprout new life
thrive without deliberateness
of choosing
eventually dying out
making room for new ones.
No more is the woolly mammoth.
Today we have
it’s current Asian relative
the elephant.

In the midst of the majesty
that breathes all around
is man
clumsy, crafty,
seemingly the only creature
not instinctively aware
of the course
uniquely his to follow.
He searches.

In a relative frenzy
of awkward ignorant insistence
he makes his way
disrupting the natural
flow of life,
by choices he trusts are best.
Still, some move just slow enough
to see and appreciate
the magic inherent in
the existence of everything,
before it’s time to leave
that others may come.

And the circles continue
expand and constrict.
And even
things judged flaws
are seen and
understood to have
their unique places of worth.

For, perfection is
nature bereft of nothing.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #21, perfectly flawed Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

What makes one
a cat person I wonder.
The felines or people,
who would know better?
How is she distinguished
one human from another?
No outward markers signify,
“Come hither feline
it’s fine
I’m a cat lover.”

In my case, I’m more inclined
to pause for a canine
though I’m just not
an animal person.

And it apparently
doesn’t work on the animals
to proclaim your position.
I tried stating aloud to one
“I don’t think cats are fun.”

The cat hunched her back
seeming to fit all her body
against one of my legs
as if she didn’t follow my message.

Then she purred her forgiveness
for my misstatement.
To her it was obvious,
I just didn’t yet know
the fullness of my own
cat connection.

Despite her seeming to know this
and the way I just don’t get it
I’ll trust my disposition and allergies
and continue to keep my distance.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #18, meow! Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

I remember fragrance.
He liked subtle colognes.
Different ones,
each complemented
what was uniquely him.
It was the smell
of church Sunday morning.
The smell I breathed in
when he helped me inside
after I fell off my bicycle.

And the smell of him
when he returned home
from a business trip.
He had hugs
and kisses all around.
And conversations for mom.
They exchanged
home updates and trip recaps
while my brothers and I
rummaged through
the designated suitcase for souvenirs.
I got T-shirts neatly packed.

I put them in my shirt drawer
so it smelled of
dad, security, home.

Interestingly now,
some odd days
a look in my neatly folded
t-shirt drawer
catches me up in a whirlwind
that blows in the memories
that trigger the familiar,
missed scent that was my dad’s
and I’m home wherever I land.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #16, what’s that smell Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Times I saw you see me
and I knew you were with me.

Then came the days
my eyes never found yours.
Always they were searching
no more gazing at me.

Now I see it in your eyes
the way they used to see
and I wonder who put it there
‘cause it sure wasn’t me.

I won’t block your view
you can’t see me anymore.
Just go on my way
‘cause I’ve done all I can.

Now I see it in your eyes
the way it once was with me.
I wonder who put it there.
Who could she be?

I just wonder who put it there
‘cause it sure wasn’t me.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #15, carrying a tune Visit the post to see the details of this prompt. I can almost hear it but I can’t keep the rhythm tight.

A Cleave Poem

The morning of   my last day free
before my poem   writing daily adventure
I sit paused   over curves thrown
over new pebbles   finding refuge, unwelcome
in my shoes   now to eject them.

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #14, you want me to write what? Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Okay, I almost didn’t write to this prompt, since the end result seemed beyond what I might do in a day. And interestingly, that’s exactly what drew me back into it. Eventually, trying a simple one seemed my only course of action.

I hope it works for you. Incidentally, “pebbles in my shoes” (left side) is the title of my 2004 collection of poetry.

The pearl slapdash of the moon is on the water
here in my corner of the universe.
A huge place its size is completely belied by this
relatively narrow sliver I can see.
How many people I wonder are watching
this same beam I eye
only from a different perspective.

I think of you often grandmother
and more so on clear moonlit nights such as this.
The offhanded manner you loved me in
as a matter of course, like breathing,
of course it had to happen. I hear the moon song
you sang in homage to the light stream that
captivated us, driving or wherever it caught us.

What I wonder tonight as I sit basking,
awash in our pearlescent moon glow
in my corner of the universe, is
if in your corner, is your countenance
likewise awash and therein imbued with thoughts
memories of how much I loved you back.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #13, smoke a dubie. Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.

Rushing through daily obligations,
only to obsessively labor
to grow a social media presence:
twittering, Facebook updating, formspring.
I’m even thinking of joining LinkedIn
as another venue for connecting.

Relentless, compulsive participation
in communion with writers,
working through the writing process
at breakneck speeds
to meet overlapping deadlines.

All for fun, or just because
on direct contemplation
I find in my quiet times,
between different things and writing sprints

I’m scared out of my wits that mine
may not be enough time
to say all that burns in me to get out
in places where I’ll be heard
and instead the flames will just consume me.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #3, scared yet?. Visit the post to see the details of this prompt. Write about something that scares me deeply.